


Jealous

by writefasttalkevenfaster



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: And posessive, F/M, Hopper getting real jealous, Hopper is a hero, Protective Jim Hopper, Smut, also there is an attempted assault scene, but it is not very graphic or long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 01:26:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19879312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writefasttalkevenfaster/pseuds/writefasttalkevenfaster
Summary: You make Hopper jealous at the Hawkins Police Station's Christmas party. He repays the favor.





	Jealous

You felt his eyes on you. 

You didn’t care. 

Well, truth be told, you did, but you were doing your damnedest to make it seem like you didn’t. Instead of being glued to his side, talking to him about this, that, or the other, you were chatting up one of the deputies, who was only all  _ too _ glad to hang off every last word that came of your ruby-red painted lips. All eyes were on you when you entered the police station’s annual non-denominational Christmas party in that little black number of yours, and you wondered why you had waited this long to do that. Oh yeah, something about having people like you for you, rather than what you wear. 

Something like that. 

Right now, you couldn’t care less about your morals, but only about how his eyes follow you around the room, speaking to every other person, except him. 

You knew he was angry. 

You could see it, despite his not-so-best efforts to hide it. The drinking didn’t help. You spied him, out of the corner of your eye, knocking back another glass. It certainly didn’t. His brow was dark, brooding as usual, but there was something else there - something that sent shivers up your spine you glanced past him. His arms were crossed, sleeves conveniently rolled up to showcase his hairy, large forearms which told you he was a  _ real  _ man - unlike the boys you were talking to right now. 

“You’re really playin’ with fire, Y/N,” Florence told you by the buffet table they had put out. Stale chips and donuts, flat soda, and cold, potluck dinner dishes you didn’t care to eat, “Why don’t you just come out and ask him out?” 

“Not that it’s your business, Florence, but I have, and he’s insisted that we’re just friends,” you shrugged, taking a plate and placing a single frosted donut on it, “I don’t wanna spend all my time waiting on him, so I decided I wouldn’t.”

“And the dress?” your lips pulled into a wicked smile, peering at him from over your shoulder without a hint of acknowledgement, as you licked some frosting from your fingers. 

“Just a small bit of revenge,” you frowned when your arm came away with frosting, scanning for napkins, “Ugh, no napkins.” you placed the donut down, “I’ll get some from the back.” 

Of course that would require you to pass the chief himself and you did without even a “hello.” You weren’t there to say hello, or to be at his side, you were there to enjoy the party, and you didn’t need him to do that - though right now, you needed napkins. 

You moved a few boxes, around, “Got so many damn bullets back here, and yet, no napkins,” you grumbled, until finally you opened the box, “finally!” You were about to grab a few when the door opened behind you, “Florence, I found them, I-” 

You blinked, and found that it wasn’t Florence, “Deputy,” you gave a small smile, you couldn’t remember his name, “Looking for something?” You grabbed a fistful of napkins, trying to sidestep him, but he only grinned. 

“Looking for you,” his voice was scratchy, sending a chill down your spine. 

“Well, I was looking for napkins, so how about you let me out?” he advanced forward, until your back hit the cool metal racks behind you. 

“But the fun’s just beginning,” you tried to push past him, but he only pinned you to the rack, arm against your throat, his breath disgustingly warm against your cheek, “Isn’t it?” 

You felt horror wash over you, gasping, wanting to cry out, but no words left your throat. You tried to kick him, but he only pressed his own weight into yours. You squeezed your eyes shut.

Then he crumpled, arms falling slack, as he fell into a pile on the ground. You blinked back tears, as Hopper stared back at you, grabbing your arm and pulling you out of the closet, behind him. The deputy groaned at his feet, as Hopper grabbed him by his collar, dragging him up and pinning him against the rack just as he did to you. And he punched him. Again. And again. And again. Until the side of the man’s face begins to take on a distinct purplish-red hue. 

You finally grabbed his arm, shaking your head, “Stop, please,” he pulled back again, a deep growl in his throat, “Jim, come on.” 

“Your ass is fired. I’m throwing you in jail tomorrow. Tonight, I’ll be sure to phone your wife. See what she has to say about this.” He threw him on the ground, shutting the door behind him, twisting a lock in place. 

Without another word, he turned to you, and  _ god, _ the look he gives you turns your legs to jelly. You don’t remember how you follow him out of the party, only the tight, heavy tug of his large hand around your wrist. You glance back to see none of the patrons of the party didn’t dare to pay either of you mind, only Florence lifting a knowing cup up to you, before Hopper pulled you through the front doors. 

The cool, crisp air hits your face, and the trance is broken - you realize where you are and what had happened, “Hopper.” He doesn’t respond, only opening the door to his truck for you, and entering the driver’s seat, “Hopper, where are we going?” 

“Just,” he gives a heavy sigh, “just get in.’ 

The drive is silent, as heavy as his sigh that was the last sound either of you dared. You kept your eyes out of the window, knowing that looking at him would be nothing but trouble. And that’s what Jim Hopper was for you, wasn’t he? You leaned against your elbow, adjusting the silt of your dress, and you felt him look over for the first time. You felt his eyes linger on your bare skin, before shifting back to the road, and you wanted to ask him - ask him if he liked the dress, or would he like it better on the floor of his truck. 

But you didn’t. 

You kept quiet, and he pulled up in front of your driveway. The soft click of the seatbelt, as it releases, and you move to leave, when he locks the door. You turn to him, aghast, and in a moment, his lips claim yours. 

There is nothing gentle about this kiss. It’s territorial. It’s desperate. It’s  _ hungry.  _

“You just had to wear that goddamn dress, didn’t you?” he growls against your lips, teeth grazing your bottom lip not-so-gently at all, and you gasp, “Had to get everyone’s  _ fucking _ attention.” 

“I had to get your attention somehow, didn’t I-” the last word is high-pitched, as he moves his seat back to draw you into his lap, large hand on either side of your waist. His stubble scratched your neck as he laid waste to your collarbone, tugging on the straps of the dress. 

“You already had my fuckin’ attention,” he hums darkly, “just didn’t want to do it this way.” 

“What way? On the seat of your car?” you tease, whining when he chooses that moment to throw open the door of the car, “Hopper!” you squeal, clinging to him, as he shuts his door and carries you up the driveway. You fumble with your keys, as he wrenches it from your hands, and unlocks it, even as you fingers are busy unbuttoning the tops of his uniform. And he carries you in, pinning you to the shut door, and his next kiss steals your breath, all tongue and teeth, as he grins against you, your chest heaving. 

“Didn’t want to do it when I was jealous,” he shrugged off his shirt, then deftly slipping the straps from your shoulders, “but it’s a little late for that now, isn’t it?” 

His touch nearly burned, as his large hands run up and down your body, pulling off your dress without much care for the material. A distinct ripping noise made him blink, before he shrugged, “Now, you’ll be only wearing this dress for me.” He groaned when he saw what you had underneath - your matching red lingerie nearly too much for him, as he squeezed your hips, lips trailing a burning path down your jawline, “you taste so fucking good.” he muttered. 

“Hopper, I-” he captured your lips in a heady kiss, messy, just as you both were. Lips meeting and falling, open mouthed kisses, his tongue so skillful that your head nearly spun when you thought of what else he could do with it, “God, Hopper.” 

His hands came to rest on your ass, lifting you higher, as your moans grew louder, and he carried you into his bedroom, unceremoniously dropping you onto his bed, and he was on top of you in a moment. And he consumes you - the roughness of his hand as they pin your wrists to the bed, the bit of his teeth against your neck, the slickness of his hand as they venture lower pulling at your underwear. 

It was almost too much. And all you can do is moan his name - louder and louder. It had been a long time coming. This coil between the two of you, winding tighter and tighter, until it was bound to snap. 

“Don’t rip my underwear too,” you murmured as he tugged it roughly down your thighs, “I like this pair.” 

“I do too,” he muttered darkly, stripping your bra off, “but if you think you’re getting them back after tonight, you clearly don’t get it.” 

“What will I wear to work tomorrow?” you sighed as his lips pressed kisses to your neck. 

He laughed, the vibrations sending a shiver down your spine, as he sucked at the tender skin above your collarbone, before giving it a rough lick, “Honey, do you think I’m going to let you leave this bed tomorrow?” 

“What am I going to tell my boss?” and you knew he knew work was the last thing on your mind, with his hands now parting your thighs, his lips working down your body ever-so-agonizingly slowly. 

He gave you a shit eating grin, “Tell them it’s official police business. I’m the Chief, I’m kind of a big deal ‘round here.” And that’s when you feel his breath against your slick heat. Your hands thread your fingers in his hair, arching into the mattress as his lips press a gentle kiss, “God, you’re fucking wet for me, aren’t you?” 

And his words nearly overwhelm you, but then his tongue licks a quick swipe across the length, “Hopper,” you whine at the lack of contact, as his nose rubs against you, and you can  _ feel _ him smell you, “please.” 

He pauses, a scream in the back of your throat, “Please, what?” 

“Please, touch me,” you say, and his fingers are back, tracing small circles in the soft flesh of your thighs. 

“Is that all you want me to do?” Your head flies up, and you see his eyes dark, as dark as they were when he had watched you at the party. So he wanted to play this game. 

“Kiss me,” and he obliges, pressing insistent kisses, drawing close to where you wanted him, but easing away just as easy, “eat me.” 

“Where?” he still asked, so you glared at him, instead using your hands to guide his face to where he wanted. And he finally did. His hands slide to your ass again, pressing you into his mouth, as his tongue drew languid, deep circles in tandem with his mouth that sucked your clit. 

“Jim, oh my god. Jim,” and he seemed to reward you, slipping two thick digits into your heat, easily, you know he noted by the groan of his mouth around your slickness, “Hop. I’m close.” 

“Scream for me, baby,” and you did, as a third finger joined the two, stretching, scissoring, and then curling. He rode your orgasm out, his stubble brushing deliciously against your thighs, as he swallowed your release, “Look at me.” you lifted your head nearly involuntarily, seeing his dark gaze, and throwing your head back into the mattress. And he allowed you to come down, plying you with now gentle kisses and not so gentle nibbles.   
“Hop,” you speak with your body instead of your words, choosing to shift over him, rolling him over on his back. You impatiently undid the buckle of his belt, sliding his pants down, but first, rolling your hips over his pants. He growled, jerking upwards to meet you thrust for thrust, allowing you to finish pulling down his pants, before he pulled you into a searing kiss. God, his hands, fingers dug into your hips, squeezing your ass. 

You reach between your bodies, palming his erection through his boxers, and another gutteral sound leaves his throat. It was practically feral and all it did was cause you to grow wetter. You lifted yourself up, peeling his boxers off, and he kicked them off, joining the scattered pile of clothes on the floor, and your hand immediately curl around his member again.

The almighty chief is now moaning, as your lips fall together in sloppy kisses, as you listen intently for his quiet groans, kissing a trail down his body, all the way down to him. 

You press a kiss to the head, and his thighs jerk, and you click your tongue at him, “Someone needs to stop moving.” 

“I would prefer if someone started ea-” he let out a strangled gasp, as you took him in your mouth, “Baby, fuck.” You would have said that was the idea, but you had your mouth full. Your hands took what your mouth couldn’t - tongue swirling around the tip, before taking languid strokes the length of it, “I was imagining all night what that beautiful mouth of yours would be like around my cock.” He met your heady gaze with an open-mouthed moan, “God, baby, that’s so good.” You traced circles on his thighs, enjoying the soft flesh under your hands, until he jerked, slowly pushing you off, “Stop, I-” a strangled growl escaped him, as he saw a trail of saliva from his member to his mouth. In a moment, he had pulled you into his lap, pressing his own back into the backboard on his bed, “I want you.” 

You nodded, sentiment creeping into your mind, “I want you too. I always have.” your gaze fell, 

His hand cupping your cheek, forcing you to meet his eyes, gaze soft, “Hey, me too. I just never thought this…” 

“Would work?” you laughed, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. 

“No, that you would even stick around for me,” Hopper’s gaze dropped, “I’m not exactly a catch.” 

And you kissed him. Again, and again, and again. Your hands tangled in his hair, trying,  _ trying _ , to show him just how worth it he was, you parted, breathing each other in, “You aren’t a catch, Hop,” his brow furrowed, but you smoothed it with your fingers, “because you’ve already been caught. And I’m not letting you go.” 

And your hands reached down between your bodies, positioning him underneath yourself, and you sank onto him. 

You both moaned in synchrony, bodies moving in tandem, rising and sinking. You grasped his shoulders, arching your back, as his lips leaned in to kiss the salt from your neck. You feel yourself constrict around him, growing closer and closer to the peak that this mountain of a man was taking you to. 

It was more than an attraction. You always knew that. 

It was always more. He was always more. The man whose heart had hardened after loss, the man who lost himself in the walls of the labyrinth he had built around himself. The man who didn’t want to believe he was worth it. But you knew he was. 

He always had been. 

And as his fingers brush you, you reach that peak, gasping his name, and he yet again obliges you with a kiss, swallowing each other’s moans, and it becomes too much for him too. He comes with another bruising kiss to your lips, his large hands cupping your face. And you found him staring at you, a smile on his lips. 

“I love you,” he whispers, his tone giving away that he almost is afraid that you heard him at all, and is half-hoping you didn’t. But you did - and you both lie back, limbs entangled, as you trace circles on his chest, only wishing you wore that goddamn dress earlier. 

“I love you too.” 

After a few minutes, you’re about to drift off, when you feel Hopper reach over you, “What are you doing?” you murmur sleepily, but he only pressed a kiss to your head, as you nestle into his chest. 

“Nothing, baby, go back to sleep,” he grabbed the telephone, dialing a number, “Hello, is this Diane? Sorry for the late hour. This is Chief Hopper. I meant to do this earlier, but I got a little tied up,” he glanced at you, fast asleep, and smiles, “I wanted to call you about your husband.” 

Who knew a little jealousy was a good thing? 


End file.
